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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27742045">my god, this house, the way that it stands</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/transcendentalbf/pseuds/transcendentalbf'>transcendentalbf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Penumbra Podcast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anorexia, Bulimia, Compulsive Behavior, Disordered Eating, EDNOS, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Other, Peter Nureyev Needs a Hug, and therapy!, and to give himself a break!, juno and peter are so stupid in love wth each other and it's the best thing, juno is such a supportive partner bro... he just wants to love and help his boyfriend...., light mention of mag being mag, over-exercising, peter nureyev angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:33:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,601</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27742045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/transcendentalbf/pseuds/transcendentalbf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s fine. When Vespa gives him a sideways glance in the medbay when he knows his exact weight off the top of his head, it’s fine. When Buddy makes not-so-subtle comments about the importance of sharing family meals together, it’s fine. When he’s exhausted but drags himself out of bed to work out anyway because if he lets himself miss a day then he is letting himself slip and he can not, will not do that, not to the crew and not to Juno and not to himself, it’s fine."</p><p>Peter Nureyev has a great many rules for himself, structures and regulations that make up his daily life and got him where he is today. So what if his behavior is becoming more and more compulsive every day, if the vicious and critical voice in his head is now an almost permanent resident, if the rigid systems he has in place to control his life sometimes seem to be controlling him instead. He's just doing what he has to do, right? Juno doesn't think so, and he's there along the way, and it's up to Peter in the end to decide that he's in need and worthy of recovery.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>my god, this house, the way that it stands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello!! this is my first fic, so please go easy on me, but I absolutely adore this podcast &amp; couldn't get this idea out of my head...<br/>content warning as this fic is centered around disordered eating, eating disorders, compulsive and disordered behavior (specifically exercise), and the like. i will include more in-depth notes at the end if anyone wants more of an idea of the content. Please take care of yourselves and try not to read this if it's going to be harmful or triggering to you - healing is real and possible and worth it and everybody, everybody, everybody deserves it. Including YOU. you are so much more than your body, and besides, you're hot as hell. sending so much love and strength. </p><p>the title is from the sensational Brenna Twohy's poem "Anxiety: A Ghost Story"<br/>A particularly stunning excerpt:<br/>“Darling, this love will not cure me. And this love will not scrape the blood from the baseboards, but it will turn all the lights on, it will bring basil back from the farmer’s market and it will plant it in every windowsill, it is the kind of love that gives me goosebumps, when you say to the ghosts,“If you’re staying, then you better make room,” and we kiss against the walls that tonight are not shaking, so we turn the music up and we dance to Miles Davis, and you say, 'My god, this house. The way that it stands even on the months that no one goes into or comes out of it.'<br/>How reckless, the way that I love like the first chapter of a ghost story. Like the gentlest hand reaching out of a grave.”</p><p>I highly recommend you check the whole poem out. It's devastating and lovely and you will not regret it. </p><p>i hope you enjoy! PLEASE let me know if there are any tags i should add.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Peter Nureyev’s alarm goes off at 5 am ship time on the Carte Blanche, it takes him a moment to extricate himself from his lover’s nocturnal embrace. Juno, ever the restless sleeper, has ended up all but sprawled on top of his boyfriend, and, well, normally Nureyev would not have a single complaint about that, but he really was trying to slip out this morning without disturbing the lady. Despite his best efforts at a silent escape, Juno shifts, letting out a sleepy grumble that would be adorable were Nureyev not kicking himself for interrupting his beloved’s rest.<br/>
“N’rey’v?” Juno slurs, his deep brown eye blinking open just a crack.<br/>
“Go back to sleep, Dearest, I’m just going to exercise,” Nureyev whispers, pressing a kiss to his lady’s forehead and disentangling himself as gently as possible from the suddenly tightened grasp.<br/>
“Why’d’ya always g’tta leave so early,” Juno grumbles against his partner’s neck. “Gym’ll still be there in ‘n hour.”<br/>
“I’m sorry, my Love. I promise, I’ll be back before you know it,” Nureyev attempts to placate his lover, gently pushing Juno’s curls back from his forehead and giving him a last affectionate glance before rolling smoothly off the bed and treading quietly down the hall to his own bedroom to change into his athletic wear.</p><p>It’s not as if Nureyev wouldn’t rather stay in bed with his lady, wouldn't love nothing more than to luxuriate in sharing sleepy kisses and basking in the warmth of Juno next to him. It isn’t as if he doesn’t feel badly, knowing that Juno would probably like that as well, doesn’t regret how frequently he ends up waking his partner when he is unable to slip out quietly enough. It’s not that he would say he particularly enjoys rising early enough every morning to get a full workout in, and then all his makeup on, before Jet wakes up for meditation and the whole crew assembles for breakfast. It’s just that, well. He has to. Nureyev can’t remember a time when a ritually consistent exercise routine (and specialized cycle of intensive stretches, and a stringently controlled diet, and a series of personal pre- and post- job protocols, and a multi-step skincare regimen) wasn’t just a part of his daily schedule, a critical element he made sure to budget time and resources for no matter which planet he found himself on or what con he was working. Or, apprenty, what startlingly endearing crime family he found himself living aboard a spaceship with.<br/>
Regardless of when it started -- whether it was spurred by Mag’s strict emphasis on self control, on perfection without room for error or allowance of any kind, or whether it was just the way Peter was and what helped him stand out as a master among the galaxy’s many criminals -- when it came down to it, it was just a necessity. To be able to infiltrate even the most thorough security, Nureyev has to be quick and nimble on his feet. To sneak in and out of locked and guarded buildings undetected, he has to be able to squeeze without difficulty through air vents and the smallest of passageways. To weave through alarm grids and twist into whatever position necessary, he has to be physically, not only mentally, flexible. To wield weapons with skill and grace, he has to be strong enough to ensure top performance with any and all available tools. If anything, the strict structure he has created for himself is more important now than ever: to earn and keep his place on the Carte Blanche, to continue being worthy of working with two of his idols and the most talented lady he has ever known, he must be perfect, and useful, and effective, and flawless. So he will be.<br/>
It scares him, a little, how fiercely he cares about them all already, after barely any time at all. How easily and terribly he could let them all down, if he were to fail in any way. Peter Nureyev does not like to be scared, and he refuses to fail. So, he pries himself early from the comfort of sleep and his love’s arms. He exercises with focused intensity. He avoids ‘family meals’ with as much tact and as often as possible, to save having to make excuses for eating his habitual half servings of pre-packaged protein balls or nutrient shake meals or microwave soy patties and other thoroughly vetted and acceptable foods instead of whatever fare the crew has put together. And it’s good. It’s what he has to do, and it’s fine.<br/>
It’s fine. When Vespa gives him a sideways glance in the medbay when he knows his exact weight off the top of his head, it’s fine. When Buddy makes not-so-subtle comments about the importance of sharing family meals together, it’s fine. When he’s exhausted but drags himself out of bed to work out anyway because if he lets himself miss a day then he is letting himself slip and he can not, will not do that, not to the crew and not to Juno and not to himself, it’s fine.<br/>
When he’s his room after a heist, his room which he hardly spends any time in anymore, hasn’t slept in since the first few weeks on the Carte Blanche, he’s always in Juno’s now, except in the mornings putting on his makeup and at night methodically running through his skincare routine and times like now, kneeling inelegantly on the floor as he gets rid of the heavy hors d'oeuvres he accepted while scoping out the mark at the latest event the crew had targeted, it’s fine. It’s just what he has to do. If he can’t get all of it back up, he’ll add an extra twenty minutes to his workout in the morning and all things will be even. It’s fine. </p><p>He knows he’s missing out on things that he should probably not be. He knows he is probably not doing things he should be doing, or is doing things he should not be doing. Both, probably. But he does his best, really, he does, to balance it all. He makes compromises that he can allow himself without a resulting spiral of guilt and fear and loathing, because the guilt is even worse when he feels like he’s letting the crew down and the fear is always there under the surface, so. He attends the stream nights Rita begs everyone to join her for, and spends the whole show wrapped around Juno, dozing off and waving away the copious variety of snacks being passed around, and it’s nice. He can do this. He’s doing the right thing by the crew and by himself and nobody is suffering for it. He makes an effort to sit through more of the family meals, and it’s nice to sit next to Juno and put his hand on his knee under the table, and it’s nice when they sit on opposite sides and make eyes at each other all meal, and it feels nice when Vespa makes fun of them or Rita calls them adorable and he knows Juno likes it, too, even if he’d never admit it. It’s okay that he just moves the food around on his plate to make it seem at a glance as though he’s eating it like everyone else, that he offers to stay behind and do the dishes so he can store the incriminating leftovers in the refrigerator so it doesn’t go to waste just because he can’t eat it, that he eats his own food once he’s the only one left in the kitchen before heading down the hall and into bed with Juno. It seems like maybe the rest of them are starting to trust him more, and that certainly feels good. He wants them to know that he’s worthy of their trust. He wants to make sure that he is worthy, and he knows how to do that, knows what he has to do to make sure he won’t lose it. It’s good that he has these rules for himself, really, and that he’s so good at following them. It would be all too easy to give in to the temptation of indulgent meals and shared free time and family dynamic and let himself go, only to lose it all by nobody’s fault but his own lack of self control. So he gets up like clockwork with his alarm in the early morning, and he does his workouts and his stretches, and he respectfully declines Rita’s homemade baked goods, and he’s exhausted, but really when has he ever not been, and as long as he’s careful to avoid getting dark circles under his eyes it doesn’t matter.</p><p>Even with his valiant attempts to practice his rituals and routines as subtly and agreeably as possible, it is difficult to do so when nearly every moment, waking and otherwise, is spent with someone else. Not just ‘someone else’, but the love of his life, who happens to be a former detective of exceptional talent. Having spent the better part of his life working solo, jumping from planet to planet and hotel room to hotel room by himself, honing his skills and perfecting the processes that ensure he is able to stay at peak performance, he is still unused to factoring the presence of another person into his carefully regimented existence. Not that he would trade it for anything, of course - being with Juno, working and existing beside the most stunning and incredible person in the world, is all he could ever ask for. He’s never been more in love, and he never thought he would ever be so lucky as to be loved in return by someone like Juno. This is it for him, if it is allowed to be. He just has to work hard enough, hold himself to a suitably high standard, perform so perfectly and flawlessly that he earns the trust and respect of the crew and can protect and serve them effectively. If anything, being here, being part of this team, has made him work harder - run farther in the mornings, lift heavier and heavier weights, eat even more carefully. It’s good. But, Juno. </p><p>“Buddy gave us all the day off, Nureyev. C’mon, stay in bed.” Peter sighs as Juno nestles further into his side, wrapping sleep-warm arms around his chest. He wants to do anything Juno asks him to, really, and usually would. But if he skips a workout, what’s stopping him from skipping tomorrow, and the day after that, and on and on until he loses the very skills that make him at all useful to the very lady who is currently endeavoring to trap him in a morning embrace? Some days, Nureyev feels like his entire life is a path he is running down in a dead sprint, escaping pursuit from uselessness and failure and laziness. Even when he feels like he’s momentarily put enough space between them and him, he still cannot stop, because what if he isn’t able to start again? What then?<br/>
“Apologies, my Dearest, but I must be getting up.”<br/>
Juno only groans and shifts even more so that he is almost anchoring Nureyev to the bed. Peter doesn't even try to fight back a most fond smile, and he shoves down the part of him that yearns to drift back to sleep in his beloved’s embrace. “I will make it up to you, I promise. I could make you breakfast after my run.”<br/>
“Ugh, please don’t,” Juno says with a theatrical gag. Oh, how Nureyev loves him.<br/>
“I suppose that’s fair,” he assents with a chuckle. “Something else, then. We do have all day.” In a fluid motion, Nureyev rolls the two of them over so that he is no longer held to the bed by Juno and plants a gentle kiss on his lover’s pouted lips as he moves for the door.<br/>
“I just wish you didn’t always leave so early, Baby. A lady likes some company to wake up slowly with,” Juno grumbles, fixing his good eye on his boyfriend leaning against the doorway. Peter feels a pang in his chest and kicks himself for it.<br/>
“I know, my dear Detective. I’m sorry. Please do go back to sleep,” he soothes. “I love you, Juno.”<br/>
“ ‘M not a detective,” comes Juno’s automatic reply, slightly garbled as he buries his head in Nureyev’s now unoccupied pillow, “b’t I love you too.”<br/>
Peter is sure to file Juno’s sleepy request as far back as possible for future consideration. Distant future. He adds an extra mile onto his run, and still manages to make it to family breakfast only a little bit late.</p><p> </p><p>Surely sneaking into the medbay isn’t breaking Vespa’s trust, if it’s just to use the medically precise scale sat in the corner. Surely declining to order himself anything when out for group dinners on refuel planets isn’t too weird or too rude, when really he’s also saving creds by waiting to eat his own food back on the ship. Surely evading Juno’s offers to cook something nice for the two of them isn’t too disappointing, despite the slight dejection on his beloved’s face when he does so. They would all understand, if they knew how it’s what he has to do to stay useful to them. They wouldn’t blame him if they knew how these oddities are just the rules and self control that play such an integral part in maintaining his skill and his purpose. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, Darlings, in summary, that went just about as well as it could have gone,” Buddy sighs.<br/>
Having gathered the pertinent information from the post-heist family meeting, another of Peter’s time-polished practices is already underway. Not unlike his exercise and his eating, it’s one he has carried out after every job for as long as he can remember: mentally combing back over every minute, with as much precision and in as much detail as possible, and identifying everything he could have (should have) done better. Once back in his room, this, along with reflection as to how not to make the same blunders again, will become a physical list on his comms to be included in his studying for the next heist.<br/>
“Meeting adjourned. Get some rest, everyone.” Buddy pushes herself up from the head of the table decidedly, and Nureyev is sure to check that his mask is fixed as to not expose how deep in thought (and agonizing self-review) he is as the crew rises from their seats and sets off to wherever they are headed to relax - Vespa in the direction of her and Buddy’s room, already having seen to Jett’s singed bicep where he had been grazed by a blaster shot as they made their escape, Rita gesticulating passionately at the aforementioned thief with an ice pack she is insistent that he hold over his injury, the two of them off to watch a stream and unwind, Juno stretching with a satisfying crack of his back that reveals a strip of midriff between his flowered skirt and now somewhat disheveled top, reaching to snake his arm around Nureyev’s shoulders and likely guide him to their room for a shower and some unwinding of their own… God, Nureyev loves him. Before the two can disappear down the Carte Blanche’s hall to warm water and close-pressed bodies and soft clothes and sweet things whispered to each other, a much more pleasant post-heist ritual than the one Peter began the moment they all clambered into the Ruby 7, Buddy’s voice stops Nureyev cold in his fashionable and efficient ankle boot-ed tracks.  </p><p>“Peter, Dear, could you stay behind with me for a moment?” </p><p>Well. It’s not as if some part of Peter, a larger part than he would like, hasn’t been expecting this. He just, well, he had let himself believe that he was working hard enough, performing well enough, to avoid the inevitable, at least for a while longer. Stupid. Stupid. Of course he was going to fuck this up eventually. There must be something he missed, some mistake too big to forgive, that he hasn’t yet remedied despite his grueling performance comb-overs, his daily practices, his attempted continued adjustments. Or maybe it’s just him, and his efforts haven’t been enough to offset the distrust and suspicion and annoyance and burden he unavoidable creates. If he could just have time to finish dissecting this heist, though, if he was able to pinpoint what he did wrong so he can apologize for it, so he can beg if he has to that Buddy give him another chance, even if he doesn’t deserve it, or at least lets him apologize to Juno before he has to leave the ship and the first family he has ever found, and spends the rest of his life wondering where he messed up so badly but knowing that it was bound to happen anyway, if not on that heist than on another one, because even if he thinks he isn’t he must be slipping, he must not be working hard enough.<br/>
Juno gives him a quizzical look, and Nureyev, around his spiraling thoughts and racing heart, attempts what he hopes is as nonchalant a shrug and half smile as possible, promises to meet Juno in his room soon with a quick kiss on his cheek. And then it’s just Peter and Buddy. </p><p>“Captain, before you begin, please allow me to apologize for -”<br/>
“Pete, Darling,” Buddy cuts him off, but Nureyev has to get out ahead of this, he has to try to convince her that he can do better, that if she just reconsiders and gives him one more chance, he’ll be better.<br/>
“No, please, while I must admit I am not sure exactly where I failed in today’s job, I assure you I will identify the mistake and remedy it, if you could be persuaded to give me one more chance, or even -”<br/>
“Ransom.” Contrary to popular belief, Peter does sometimes know when to shut up and listen. He does so now, with an audible click of teeth as he slams his mouth shut. Buddy continues. “Pete, I did not ask for you to stay so I could reprimand you.”<br/>
Oh. Huh. Does that mean there’s no chance for him to even attempt to implore her to let him try again, that her mind is already made up past the point of admonishment and straight to expulsion from the family? Should he just apologize and accept that there’s nothing he can do, that this was bound to happen eventually and the fact that they put up with him this long is frankly miraculous, that these months with the crew, with some sort of family, with Juno, have been more than he ever deserved and thought he would ever have? Should he try and save what dignity he has left and take her decision as it is, thank her for the opportunity she provided him and ask forgiveness that he did not measure up, excuse himself and leave as quickly and quietly as he always does when things eventually go wrong? Peter Nureyev has never considered himself to be one to beg, but. He already cost himself the first family he ever had, and the prospect of being booted from another, of having to leave the Carte Blanche, having to leave Juno, is making him sick to his stomach. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just tenses his muscles as if preparing for a blow.<br/>
When Buddy next speaks, there is a tinge of exasperation in her voice. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Darling. Do stop looking as though I’m about to hit you.”<br/>
Peter would laugh if he could. He wishes Buddy would just hit him. He knows how to deal with that. Even a stun blast from point blank range would be a relief - anything would be better than what he is sure is coming.<br/>
“Apologies, Captain, I…” for one of the first times in his life, Nureyev does not know how to finish a sentence. He just wants this to be over so he can have a quick messy and entirely unbecoming breakdown in private and then figure out what the hell he’s going to do next now that he’s ruined the best opportunity, the closest thing to a home and a family, he’s ever had.<br/>
“Please, Ransom, do stop this apologizing.” Even with his decades of practice shielding emotions and reactions, Nureyev is so on edge that he has to hold back a flinch as Buddy’s exasperation wells up further. He hopes she’ll just get it over with soon. “I repeat myself, Darling, you did not do anything wrong.” Her voice softens. “I wanted to talk privately because I’m worried about you, Peter.”<br/>
Nureyev is stunned silent. He most certainly was not prepared for this.<br/>
“It’s just, it’s been lovely to see more of you at family meals, Dear, but you never seem to actually eat. Jet says you’re always in the exercise room when he gets there in the morning, and you’ve lost a visible amount of weight since you joined us, which it doesn’t look like you really had to spare in the first place. I want to be sure that you are doing okay, Darling.”<br/>
Peter’s brain is still spinning in circles, but his mouth has caught up at least a little bit. He’s not getting fired. The relief is huge, but the pang in his gut has not gone away, and there is a lump in his throat that he would very much like to push down to analyze at another time. He clears his throat, as if that would help dislodge the jumpy discomfort that has lodged itself there.<br/>
“Oh. I see. I appreciate the concern, Captain, I really do, but I assure you that I am completely fine. As long as you do not feel there has been anything to be desired from my performance lately, then I promise there is no issue for you to occupy yourself with.”<br/>
Buddy looks at him hard and takes a moment before speaking. “Look, Pete. We are a family, as well as a team, and that means that I place great importance in occupying myself with the well being of my crew, whether it affects their job performance or not. By no means have I, or any of us, found your skillset to be lacking. You are a talented thief, you clearly take your work very seriously, and you have made it evident how you will go to lengths to see that everyone gets home as smoothly and safely as possible. I do not regret for a second having selected you.” The knot in Nureyev’s stomach loosens exponentially at this, but the tightness in his chest and racing of his heart does not cease. “I know you value your privacy, Ransom, but if you are struggling, which, forgive me for saying, but it seems like you are, I do hope you would let someone help you. Your wellbeing matters beyond just your ability to do your job. To all of us, and to Juno especially, I’m sure.”<br/>
Nureyev is not quite sure how to process all this. He trusts the Captain, he really does, but he is having trouble taking what she says at face value. Her mention of Juno does break through his cluttered thoughts, however, reminding him that his lady is waiting for him down the hall. He desperately wants to be there with him, longs for when they will fall into Juno’s bed, wrapped in each other’s embrace, where he’ll have peace and quiet and comfort to replay and pick apart this conversation until he understands it.<br/>
He tries to school his voice to sound as genuine as he can allow without betraying the depths of unidentifiable emotion that feels trapped in his chest. “Thank you for that. I really do appreciate it, and I will take what you have said under advisement.”<br/>
Buddy furrows the brow above her good eye almost imperceptibly. “Please do, Darling. I wanted to come to you first, but I should say, if my concern for you continues to increase, I will go to Vespa or Juno about it. As your Captain, and someone who cares for you, it is exceedingly important to me to be sure that you are alright.”<br/>
Nureyev feels cold all over, and his stomach sinks like a stone. He manages a nod and a polite goodnight before controlled and practiced steps mindlessly land him shut in the bathroom of his disused quarters. He wants more than anything to go find Juno, wants to bury his face in the many pillows on his lover’s bed and feel his arms around him until the inexplicable panic and nausea passes, but there’s no way he is showing up to his lady’s room like this. Not until he calms himself down. There’s not much of anything to bring up, save water and the caffeinated tea he consumes to stay alert during a heist, but he tries anyway if only for hope of dispelling the swirling discomfort and painful unease that has made its home in his gut. He doesn’t even know what he’s so worked up about, really. Just being stupid about nothing. He’s not getting fired. He is not being kicked off the Carte Blanche. Buddy had even said explicitly that she was pleased with his performance. He should be happy about that. There’s no reason he should be so stupidly worried about her last statement - so what if she says something to Juno or Vespa? What would she even tell them? It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong. It’s not like there’s anything the matter with him. He’s just living his life the way he always has, doing what he’s always done to ensure that Buddy will continue to be able to say she does not regret choosing him, so that he can keep doing his job as well as expected, so that Juno will go on looking at him with love and admiration, so that he can continue proving to himself and to everyone that he is worthy of the space he occupies. There’s nothing wrong with him, nothing he would need help for, certainly nothing he would deserve help for. He’s just being stupid. He’s fine. Nureyev rises and spends an uncertain amount of time staring coldly at his reflection in the mirror before shuddering through a deep breath, brushing his teeth quickly and efficiently, splashing cold water on his face, and to Juno’s room as he endeavors to put his ridiculous anxiety away for a later date. </p><p>	The following few weeks, spent going to even greater pains to appear to function as normally and appealing as possible in front of the crew, leave Nureyev nothing but even more exhausted and on edge. And even thinner, and keeping even lengthier hours in the workout room, because it seems as though the more he works himself up over the prospect of Buddy being concerned about him, the moment he allows himself to even think about possibly taking a day off from exercise or actually partaking in a family meal or sharing a snack with Rita or anything outside of his strictly followed rules, the louder the voice in his head that is somewhere between Mag’s and his own becomes. Reminding him how essential self control is in his line of work, how his body and his looks are all he has at the end of the day. How any crack in his composure or any lull in his schedule will allow his underlying weakness and laziness and potential for failure to rush in. The weakness and laziness and general deficiency that is clearly not as latent, not as well hidden, as he would have liked to think, if Buddy was able to see it. So he works harder.<br/>
It’s getting more difficult to keep lying to himself about it. It’s seeming increasingly silly and stupid to blindly insist in his own head that there’s nothing the matter. It certainly does not change anything, though. So what if his behavior is a bit compulsive, maybe boarding on disordered at times? So what if he does have a bit of a problem? If he would be deeply concerned about Juno were he holding himself to the standards Peter holds himself to? It doesn’t matter. He needs to be this way. Whatever disordered behavior he may display is just a vital part of being Peter Nureyev, is just how he makes sure to earn his place as part of the crew, on the Carte Blanche, in Juno’s life, in the universe. So maybe he’s not fine, but it doesn’t matter. He’s certainly not going to make it anybody else’s problem, no more than he already has by failing to hide his shortcomings from Buddy. There is no way he is going to put the weight of his incompetence and obsessiveness and exhaustion on Juno’s shoulders, not when the lady has been working so hard to better himself, to recover because unlike Nureyev he actually deserves to and should, when he has made so much progress which Nureyev is so happy for and proud of him over. The lengths Nureyev has to go to, the ringer he has to put himself through daily, is just that: something he has to do. It’s childish and selfish and lazy of him to think otherwise, to pity himself at all, to allow any thought of rest or flexibility to push through the reinforced structure that is his carefully regimented brain. If he wants to continue even coming close to deserving Juno, if he wants to remain useful enough to the crew that they overlook his many shortcomings and idiosyncrasies, he’ll deal with this on his own like he always has and keep up the painstaking existence that he knows he is nothing without. </p><p>In some ways, Peter supposes, it’s easier on the ship and with the crew. There isn’t much in the way of alcohol, so it doesn’t seem weird that Nureyev avoids drinking. He gets drunk too easily, what with how little he eats, and is wary of empty calories besides. Furthermore, Juno has been making an effort to rely on alcohol less, something Nureyev is endlessly proud of his partner for, so when they go out to eat on whichever planet they are stopped a t and neither member of the couple orders a drink, it could appear as just solidarity instead of disorder. Nureyev wishes that’s all it was, and berates himself harshly for the weakness of the thought. In most areas, though, it’s just harder, here. Nureyev is dizzy and exhausted, and even as compacted as it is, his stomach is growling at him to eat. But he can’t. Not this food, not in the kitchen with so many people around him, watching him, judging him. They’ll judge you either way, no matter what, the scathing voice in his head reminds him. You think they care enough for it to matter what you eat or don’t eat? Plus, you’re no use to them if you’re too shaky and faint, either. You know the right balance between lazy and too ill. Get yourself together. You’re better than this. You have to be better than this. He’s trying. He really is. Just not hard enough. Nureyev schools his expression calm and neutral against the litany of self flagellation in his head and excuses himself to curl in Juno’s bed and study the next heist’s floor plan, a necessary distraction before it all becomes too much and he betrays his inner messiness even more unforgivably than he already has. Later, when Juno joins him, Nureyev files away the concern in his lover’s beautiful eye (concern that Nureyev should know better than to need, than to allow to weigh Juno down with) and interrupts his lady’s worried queries with a kiss that he hopes is enough to derail the path of questioning he can not go down, enough to distract his partner from Peter’s failures and convey the ferocity of the love he feels bursting out of him. </p><p> </p><p>Of course it’s something small stupid that does it. It always is. Just an embarrassingly concerned and knowing look from Buddy across the kitchen as he remains silent while the others discuss what snacks they want for later when they watch the stream Rita’s been going on about. Just the weight of his shame making him feel sick, the warring voices in his head telling him on one hand to just eat, it’s not that hard, stop being a child and just function like a normal human being and on the other insisting it’s for the better to sequester himself in the gym for the rest of the evening, to stick his fingers down his throat, to go over the list of everything he did wrong on the last job one more time to be sure none of it ever happens again. It’s all so loud and he’s hungry and tired and he can’t be around them all when he’s like this, can’t run the risk of snapping at someone or saying something he would regret or betraying how weak and useless and scared and exhausted he feels. It’s just that this time, for whatever reason, Nureyev is not able to slip away as inconspicuously as usual, instead has to draw attention to himself like an idiot. Not as if it’s his actual, literal job to be able to sneak around effectively. Stupid. So instead of successfully fleeing to Juno’s room or his own quarters without causing a fuss, he hears the crew’s voices drop to hushed whispers as he ducks out of the room. They still haven’t risen again by the time he has made it to his door, closed it behind him and sat firmly down against it, and let his head drop into his hands, utterly disgusted with himself. He can’t believe how fucking stupid he is. How ridiculus and difficult and stupid he’s being. The whole point of all of this, of him, is to not cause any problems for the crew, to be of use to them, to be what they need him to be and what they hired him for. Of course he had to be childish and selfish, had to not control himself strictly enough, had to let show the weakness and failure that he’s tried so hard to purge himself of or at the very least shield the other from. Of fucking course he did. He was bound to ruin this eventually, one way or another, no matter what he did, how hard he worked to put it off as long as possible. And now they all know that there’s something wrong with him, all know that he’s as useless and weird and difficult as they predicted, and he’s trying to run away because that’s all he knows how to do, because he doesn’t even have the discipline to make himself watch as all that he has worked to build and maintain here on the Carte Blanche collapses in on itself all by the fault of his own stupidity, dysfunction, childishness, failure. </p><p>“Nureyev? Baby, what’s the matter?” The gentle knock vibrated through his body where the prominent bones of his shoulders and back are pressed tightly against the door, and Juno’s voice, gentle and concerned, marginally soothes the pounding in his chest and the swirling of his thoughts. Juno. Juno. Juno is here, on the other side of the door, worried about him. He knows that should make him feel even guiltier than he already does, that Juno should never have to waste his energy being concerned about him, but Nureyev is endlessly selfish and so so tired, and it just feels nice. “Nureyev? Can I come in?” Probably, Peter should stand up and open the door himself, should smile and apologize and tell Juno that nothing is wrong there is nothing to worry about, should stop being a child and a burden and be the shining capable loving boyfriend he wants so badly to be, but. Before he can even endeavor to fix his smudged makeup, he’s scooting out from against the door and his mouth is moving independant from his scolding brain and he’s telling Juno to come inside, and the door is being eased open softly, and then Juno is sitting on the floor next to him with his arms, strong and safe, pulling Nureyev gently to his chest. And it feels so nice, just to be here with him, just to be still for a moment.<br/>
“Hey, hey, Nureyev,” Juno mumbles into Peter’s hair, and it’s not until he feels the lady’s fingers softly brush under his eyes that he realizes he’s crying. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Not right now. I’m here with you. It’s gonna be okay, Baby. I’m here with you. I got you, Nureyev.”<br/>
Peter could stay like this forever, wrapped in Juno’s arms, the love of his life whispering sweet things to him that maybe he’ll be able to believe. But he knows he owes his partner some sort of explanation for all of this, for the way he’s being, for the way he is. “My Dear, I -”<br/>
Juno interrupts him, pushing a disheveled lock of hair behind Peter’s ear and cupping his face lovingly. “You don’t have to say anything, Love, not tonight. Buddy told us a bit of what all she’s been noticing...” That should scare Nureyev, really, that Juno knows now how obsessive and disordered he is, but if Juno is looking at him like that, so sweetly and adoringly, is holding him like this, then maybe he’s not disgusted by and ashamed of him, somehow. His lady never ceases to amaze him, he supposes. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Nureyev,” Juno continues, turning their bodies so he’s looking Peter in the eyes, holding his face with both hands now, “I should have noticed that something was off, that you were struggling. I just, I don’t know. I guess I was just so caught up in how happy I was to be with you again, how wonderful it’s been to be back together, that I didn’t even stop to make sure you were doing okay. I’m so sorry, Love.”<br/>
It’s Nureyev’s turn, now, to gently wipe away the tears gathering in his beloved’s deep brown eye. “Juno. Dearest, you have nothing to apologize for, I promise. I did endeavor quite intentionally to… hide any behavior that may have been worrisome, I suppose. You have been working so hard on your own growth, my Love, and I would never want to get in the way of that for the sake of my own... oddities.”<br/>
Juno shakes his head, but his expression remains more forlorn than exasperated. “Nureyev, you would never ‘get in the way’ of anything. I love you. So, so much. I want you to be happy, and I want you to be okay, and I want to help you get there. We all do. You… I don’t know how to convince you that you don’t have to do this to yourself, Baby, but you just…” Juno shakes his head again, looking at Peter with a gaze more full of love and feeling that Nureyev ever thought would ever be focused on him, as he seems to try and put into words what he wants to say. “We all just want you to be okay. I just want you to be okay.”<br/>
Peter drops his eyes down to his lap. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to do with all of this. He wants to be okay for Juno. He never wants Juno to have to worry about him, not now and not ever and not over anything. He just doesn’t know how to get there. “I just…” he starts, and Juno nods encouragingly, listening intently even as Nureyev cannot manage to look him in the face. “I suppose it’s just that, I have always had these great many… rules, of a sort, for myself, and,” Peter clears his throat in a vain attempt to compose himself before continuing, the words starting to pour out despite never before having been allowed to be voiced,  “I’m afraid that if I don’t follow them, if I let myself slip, then… Then everything I’ve ever worked for will be undone, and all that I have that makes me useful and desirable will slip away, and I’ll lose the only life I’ve ever been good for. I’ll lose my spot here, on the crew. With you.” He’s really crying now, and he must look quite the mess doing it, but before the guilt and disgust even has a chance to worm its way into his gut, Juno is kissing the tears off his cheeks, and he isn’t walking out, and he doesn’t seem angry, and he doesn’t seem disgusted. He’s just holding him while he cries on the floor of the bedroom Peter has abandoned in favor of the lady’s own bed, and he’s not leaving.<br/>
“Oh, Nureyev.” He’s not leaving. Juno is looking at him like he’s the center of the universe, and like he just broke his heart, and Nureyev didn’t think he could be more in love than he was before but, well, wonder of wonders.<br/>
They stay wrapped up in each other like that, Nureyev whispering apologies and Juno begging him not to, and vice versa, and countless declarations of love passed between the two of them, before they eventually go for a second, only to drag up the hall back to Juno’s room and collapse in bed together, worn out.<br/>
In the morning, they talk, and it will be far from the last time that they do. It’s hard. It scares Nureyev, to admit that there’s something wrong, to decide after so long and against so much in him that he wants to do something about it. To believe that it doesn’t have to be one extreme or the other -- lazy or obsessive, useless or sick -- that he could be able to exist in some sort of balanced and more comfortable middle. It’s hard, but he works at it anyway.<br/>
Juno shows him every day how much he loves him - holding him when the voice in his head calling him useless and lazy gets too loud to ignore, rubbing his back gently and whispering sweet things when Nureyev’s brain is making him long for the comfort of cold plastic and the bathroom, microwaving heat pads when his stomach cramps as it gets used to more nourishment, expressing exactly how perfect and gorgeous he finds him when they’re alone together in Juno’s room.<br/>
It doesn’t fix everything, of course. Even if it did work like that, even if it was that easy, if Juno were perfect and Peter were perfect and the crew and the time and the place, if ‘perfect’ even existed at all, there are bad days. There are the mornings when Peter, pulled out of sleep in the early morning by his alarm, allows himself the choice to spend another hour beside Juno instead, and there are the ones where he ignores the aching of his muscles and works himself to exhaustion anyway. The times when he can push himself to enjoy a previously off-limits snack during a stream night, and the ones when even reaching for a safe food feels grossly and terrifyingly indulgent. The post-heist evenings where he makes himself sick running over every mistake he made and exactly how he could have prevented it, and those when he stays to celebrate with the crew, relishing in the pride of another job well done. For a long time, most of everything that Peter Nureyev did was because of Mag. Even after New Kinshasa, it was Mag’s voice in his head, Mag’s lessons in his mind, the anger at Mag’s manipulation and the resounding guilt over his own actions that spurred Peter’s choices and actions. Then, for a while, he was able to believe that he existed for himself and himself only, not bound to anyone or anything, not haunted by a slick red room and blood on his hands, not taunted and belittled by a critical voice somewhere between a father’s and his own. And then Juno, and then the crew, and the decision that everything he would ever do would be for them, would be for him,would be to get Juno to stay and to keep Juno safe and to be able to stay a part of the crew so he could do that. Now, though. He’s working at making that new space in the middle, where the memory of Mag and all he learned from him can guide him along instead of tormenting him, where he can hold and pursue his high personal standards without destroying himself in the process, where Juno and Buddy and Vespa and Jet and Rita (and Juno and Juno and Juno and Juno) can exist as his top priorities, but where he is a priority, too. Where less and less do the ones he loves  seem one mistake on his part from slipping away, and where gentleness and love and rest and vivacity and recovery are things that he could deserve. With Juno’s help, with patience and time, he’s working on it, and he even lets himself feel proud for it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you so much for reading!! </p><p>specific content warnings:</p><p>Nureyev displays disordered eating habits, purging behavior, disordered and compulsive behavior relating to exercise, vicious self-talk, and canon-typical thoughts about 'laziness', age, appearance, and the like. It is implied that these thoughts only extend to himself, and he is not critical about these perceived traits and aspects in other people. Descriptions of vomiting/purging behavior are not graphic. </p><p>At one point, Buddy engages Nureyev in a well-intentioned conversation about concerning behavior she has noticed, which makes Nureyev agitated and harder on himself about 'hiding' his behaviors from the crew.</p><p>This fic also includes what can be interpreted as allusions to Mag-typical abuse/bad parenting, non-explicit and very brief implied sexual content between Nureyev and Juno, and non-explicit instances of panic.</p><p>final disclaimer that the basis of this fic and Nureyev's behavior come from the author's own personal experience with eating disorders and compulsive/disordered behavior. take care of yourselves, everyone. all my love.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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